


A Day Off

by orphan_account



Category: Metal Gear
Genre: Alternate Universe - Domestic, Childhood Still Fraught With Trauma Though, Daddy Kink, Eavesdropping, Family Dynamics, Frottage, Hand Jobs, Horny Teenagers, Inferiority Complex, M/M, Non-Consensual Voyeurism, Porn With Plot, Projection, Sibling Incest, Strict Parenting Bc Big Boss, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-01
Updated: 2020-04-01
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:07:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23428210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Eli finally lands himself a day off and is rudely interrupted.
Relationships: Big Boss/Ocelot, Liquid Snake/Otacon, Liquid Snake/Solid Snake, Otacon/Solid Snake
Comments: 6
Kudos: 33





	A Day Off

**Author's Note:**

> Unbeta’d because real men don’t give a shit if they’ve misspelled anything. 
> 
> (Try To) Enjoy!

John’s house is always one of two moods, an ambiance catering to just about the _only_ two in which John has ever been known to possess by his boys. 

As Eli would so eloquently put it, _‘loud as fuck all’_ and, more to _both_ of the twins’ displeasure as silence typically means trouble, the quiet before the storm. 

He’s the type of man the boys usually like to catch in one of his louder moods. You don’t fuck with a man who’s naturally belligerent towards his own children as if they’re strangers when he up and turns quiet. What comes from that is never good, they know that now. 

So when certain _dog days_ come around— lazy weekends when John’s chasing his whorish broads around the house or crashing in his study with a beer and burgers and Ocelot’s occasional company, there isn’t a thing on mother earth better to bask in than the glow of silence and peace from an intoxicated father. 

Days like _today_. 

It’s been, what, months? _Months_ , Eli would think, since he’s had the chance to thrash his way out from under his father’s boot.

Putting the man himself aside, what teenager fresh into puberty wants to be stuck in cqc lessons and what John calls “ _recon training_ ” for hours on end? He’s got a life too, one he’s apt to live, if the old man would just get off his back. 

He’s had no shortage of late nights and early mornings full of being dragged ankle first at the ass crack of dawn out of his and Dave’s bedroom just to “ _train_ ”. Usually, it’s Ocelot or Father, but sometimes both, either way, it’s never fun. He’s been putting up with this for years since the devil on his father’s shoulder ( _aka Ocelot_ ) convinced John that the boys— Eli in particular— were getting spoiled and severely lacking of discipline. So being a father so emphatic about his boy’s health and general well-being, John put everyone’s favorite uncle Ocelot in charge of waking them up and terrorizing them with meal plans and exercise regimens, nothing too bombarded by fitness and health. 

So when Eli _finally_ got wind of a lazy weekend— even unplanned as he’s sure it was— he was _ecstatic_. 

Finally, a break from _Commander “daddy”._ He’s such a stuck-up, pompous ass, expecting Eli to stay groomed and fit for his father, as if he’s taking him out on a _date_ or something every other fuckin’ day when he’s outside snapping at their heels making sure they’re in correct form, running up and down the yard like dogs on chains. 

And of course he rides Eli’s ass the hardest, tells Ocelot to do the same. _As if they could make life even harder._

  
But today— things are different. 

The house is… silent. Large as it is, Eli finds it pretty easy to avoid his father on a good day. On a bad one, he’s bumping into his wide, _bare_ chest and side-eyeing some broad he’s got hanging off of his arm that’s got clear skin and perky tits— _yet always blond hair_ — as they’re on their way to his study. 

Never the bedroom but always the study. Eli doesn’t give two flaming shits _where_ they fuck so long as it’s far from him. He dry heaves just thinking about all the nights he had to listen to John’s headboard thud against the wall— the wall _right_ next to his and Dave’s bedroom. Good thing he’s taken a liking to the study.

Eli’s finding himself particularly proud of his own evasive maneuvers when he’s using them to sneak around the house— listen to the floorboards, know where Dave’s heavy-weight soles are stomping against wood. 

Today though, nothing evasive was required. He’s been freed, somehow, he’s sure of it. _No Ocelot, no Dave, no father._ It’s just Eli and his thoughts. 

When those drifted back to stressing over his father… he decided to drown them out. 

Nothing a good stereo can’t fix. Father’s always been privy to the old-fashioned, but Eli certainly won’t complain when he’s allowed to buy outdated consoles and ancient cassette players that’ll surely drive his inner madness away. 

Eli finds himself in the living room lazily shoving chips in his mouth, one of Father’s old cassette players on to drown out the sound of chewing. He’s never allowed to eat junk food— courtesy of Ocelot— and if he has a rare chance like today then by god he’ll take advantage of it. 

He hacks up crumbs and wipes his mouth, _really_ falling into that slob posture as he kicks back and props his feet up on the coffee table. The leather couch cushions squeal against his skin when he shifts. 

Ocelot’s always slapped his ankles or straight-up kicked them out of the way. _“Nobody but dogs bounce their asses on furniture, kid.”_ So he’s never quite been able to enjoy the simple pleasure of plopping down and kicking back. 

And he is _kicked back…._

The cassette’s rolling with some song from the 80’s. Eli grabs a fistful of chips and shoves them down his gullet, humming along as best he can while he fishes between the cushions with greased up fingers for the remote. 

Through mashed food and excessive saliva, he hums along chirpily, _“Woah-oh here she comes...”_ He finds the remote and points it at the tv, furiously clicking the buttons without an ounce of patience. He keeps humming, _“She's a man eater….”_

He’s never much liked television— plenty of things new under the sun and tv is hardly one of them— but he decided long before he’d even hopped over the back of the couch with chips in hand that he’d indulge in it today. Not because he enjoys it, but because what would a lazy day be if not filled with excessive noise from the most enabling piece of tech known to man? 

He’s honestly on cloud fuckin’ nine. He _deserves_ this. After everything his father’s put him through, every early bedtime and even earlier morning, fucked up food schedules and invasions of privacy, he’s earned this. He _wants_ it, and some old man with an attitude bigger than his prick isn’t gonna keep him from it. 

Eli chuckles to himself, _heh… tiny-prick John._ It almost has a ring to it. 

And what’s the worst that could happen if he does get caught with a face full of junk food? He’ll run extra hard if he has to but _nothing_ can keep him from this day off. _Nothing and no one_. 

Eli’s so busy plotting out the various ways he can tell off his father and Ocelot with a chest swelling with pride and a belly full of food that he doesn’t catch the footsteps treading across the floor behind him. 

Between the mix of music and humming and chewing in his ears, he hears a creak in the floor. Within seconds he’d pulled his knees up to his chest and sunk low, hiding himself against the back of the couch and clutching the bag of chips to his chest. 

He’s panting all of the sudden, listening with a heart throbbing in his ears and a mouth still full of chips he won’t _dare_ chew. 

Eli squints at the tv as it’s display occasionally goes dark between commercials. He can almost make out a figure in the reflection. It’s not directly behind him but it’s close, bearing an awful resemblance to John and even— _fuck. It must be Father,_ and Eli knows because there’s some figure on his arm. 

One of his usual airheaded broads, no-doubt. _Fucking old man and his fucking women and his fucking—_

Eli stammers out of his own head when he hears a doting voice approaching and curls himself into a ball. 

“I’m telling you, it’s not like him—“ the voice grows loud throughout the small living room, “He never lets his guard down like this.” Eli hears an incredulous laugh almost a bit too lax, “I’m surprised he could pry himself away from Eli long enough to disappear.” 

_Pull away from Eli_. Eli strains his eyes trying to see the reflection. _Looks like Father, sounds almost just like father, holding onto someone._ It must be Father… right? 

Some feebler voice arises, “You’re sure he won’t… turn up?” 

_Who the hell is that?_ Eli almost threatens to crane his neck over the back of the couch to look, but he hopes he doesn’t need to, that he’ll just melt into the leather before this mysterious duo can turn up and scold him for slacking off. 

“Don’t worry.” The John-esq voice, more singsong than usual, assures. “I’ll take care of you fine. Father won’t find you here, _Hal_.” 

_Hal_. Eli’s eyes go wide, dinner plate fuckin’ wide. _Fucking Dave_. 

Eli shoots up from behind the couch, tossing the chip bag to the floor. He shouts— near screams, “You fucking prick!” 

He’s met with two obviously surprised faces and a shriek. Hal is scared out of his wits, near a faint expression when Dave grabs his arm and holds him upright. He glares a hole into Eli’s face so fast his doe-eyed expression seems to have never been there. “ _Me_?” Dave shouts back, “You’re the prick! Why are you hiding just to fucking scare people?” 

Eli belly-laughs and wipes a tear sarcastically, “As if _I’m_ the one hiding. I’m just…” He looks down at the mess of crumbs and crumpled up chip bags and back to his brother, “Relaxing. Enjoying _my_ day off. You’re the one sneaking your _little boyfriend_ into the house.” 

Eli can tell that caught his brother off guard the moment Dave’s eyes go wide. He opens his mouth to retort just as Hal squeezes his arm and cries out. “How does he know about— _about us_?” 

Dave’s face is quickly tomato-red. A sickening, vibrant and oh so satisfying red. Eli’s grin spreads a mile wide. “Oh, of course you’d get with _Hal_ of all people.” He mutters lowly, looking between the two of them. 

Dave grabs the bridge of his nose and sighs real deep— a vain attempt to steady himself despite Hal shaking his arm. He looks up to the ceiling, still covering his face, and groans something between a frustrated yell and a desperate cry. Hal just stares on in horror. “He _didn’t_ know, Hal. Until, Well…” Dave gestures vaguely outward, “Just now.” 

Hal stammers, “But I— I thought….” It takes a moment, it does, but Eli can see the light bulbs above his head flickering to life slow enough to make his laughter all the more sweet and satisfying. “Oh. So I… I told him. Just now.” It’s a confirmation but the poor bastard frames it as a question, and Eli can’t help but double-over. 

Dave speaks up over his laughter. “I bet you think this is funny, huh?” 

Eli wipes a real tear from his eyes this time, finding the air in his lungs once again to breathe. “How could I not? You sneak an _Emmerich_ into the house and of all things he’s your _boyfriend_.” Eli shakes his head, beaming with a prideful sneer because he’s won and eyeing Dave, “You’ve really screwed the pooch on this one, dumbass! Just wait until father hears about this!” 

Dave nods along with Eli’s words as if he too thinks they’re funny, a sarcastic sneer growing on his face too— starkly contrasting with Hal’s who is beside himself with horrendous fear. “Go ahead, laugh it up. You forget that hates your guts _way_ more than mine already? How do you think he’ll react when I tell him you’re staining the furniture _and_ breaking your diet?” Dave bears his teeth, “He’ll be mad as hell.” 

Eli’s not laughing anymore. “That’s not… that’s not true. He’d rather I break my regimen than you _fuck_ an Emmerich.” He accentuates his point by shoving a finger towards Hal. 

“W-Why does John have to know at all?” 

Eli and Dave both yell in unison, “Quiet, Hal!” The Emmerich son recedes into himself with a hand clinging to Dave’s arm acting as his buoy. 

“I mean, he’s…” Dave sighs exasperatedly and spits his words out at Eli, “He’s right, you know. Father doesn’t have to know about either of this if we just… let it go, go our separate ways.” 

Eli scoffs. “Let it go? _Let it go?_ You expect me to just toss aside this golden piece of leverage? I fucking own you now.” The kid spits his words back like poison at his brother, so assured that he couldn’t possibly go wrong with having confidence in this one. After all— father _does_ hate the Emmerichs more than he hates disobedient children, right? 

Right? 

_Shit_. 

They’re both in deep. No— the _three_ of them are in deep. If John were to come home to this mess, heads would undoubtedly roll and Eli wouldn’t have a taste of freedom for as long as he lives. His face loses its boasting pride and his winner’s chuckle fades into nothing. He clears his throat, “Okay, you’re—“ it pains him to say it more than anything he can imagine, _anything_ , but he closes his eyes right and forces himself, “You're right. Damn it.” 

Dave nods, muttering lowly, “No shit I’m right.” 

Eli’s eyes shoot open as he throws a fist threateningly towards Dave. He shouts, “Fuck you!” 

Dave does the same, mirroring his brother’s juvenile outburst, “No, fuck _you_!” 

“Uhm…” Hal’s feeble voice picks up again, “Guys—“ 

The brothers pay no mind. They’re quickly in a pissing match with ‘fuck you’ at the forefront of their argument, despairing on their own stubborn loss and hating the other for how right they are. 

“You always do this!” Dave shouts, “You can never just keep your mouth shut and stay in line the way father asks you. Why can’t you just do as you’re told?” 

“Me?” Eli screams back at him with indignance, “I’m not the one bringing boys into the house like a fuckin’ school girl! You’re putting us both in the ground, you arsehat! Fuck you!” 

Dave screams too, the spitting image of a counter to his brother’s rage, “No, fuck—“ 

“Guys!” Hal shouts. 

The twins both look at him and question angrily in unison. “What?” 

Hal points to the front door past the kitchen, particularly it’s twisting doorknob. 

Suddenly, brothers dearest take a liking to silence _and_ helping one another in the span of a millisecond. 

“Dad’s home!” Someone shouts and before they’ve had a moment to think, they’re both scurrying like cockroaches across the floor to get as far away as possible. Eli’s right behind Dave and Hal when he remembers the chip bag he threw onto the floor. His face blanches in horror as he slows his running pace and breaks away, falling back to the living room. 

“What the hell are you—“ 

“The chips!” Eli whisper-yells. He sprints back to the couch and begrudgingly finds himself thanking the universe for making Ocelot such a hard ass for form, because he knows he wouldn’t be going nearly as fast right now if he hadn’t been forced to train so often. 

Eli falls to the floor between the couch and the coffee table. His hands are quick to grab fistfuls of chips and hefty crumbs and shove them back in the bag as he heaves out panicked little pants, looking over his shoulder at Dave and Hal. “Help me, you arse!” He pleads. 

Dave shakes his head and readies to sprint towards the stairs up to his bedroom. “No, help your damn self, asshole.” 

Hal shakes Dave’s arm. “We have to. He’ll tell your father!” 

Dave groans. He quickly runs to Eli’s side, leaving Hal standing alone as the two twins brush crumbs off the cushions and onto the floor, hastily sweeping them along with the bag underneath the couch. 

_Out of sight, out of mind._ They pay no attention to the bits nestled between the boards and Dave quickly jolts Eli backwards by the shoulder, “Move your ass!” 

The door’s opening before they can make it to Hal. John’s voice— so similar to Dave’s— rings out loud and proud. The twins duck behind the couch. 

“—Don’t know where the brats are but I’m sure they’re in bed if they know what’s good for them.” John takes a deep breath the way a tall, burly man with a presence as imperious as his does, and closes the door. He chuckles, “Heh… you really ride their sorry asses, don’t you?” 

“Keeping disobedient kids in check is a specialty of mine, you could say.” Ocelot laughs, “Only the best for my _boss_.” 

John’s tone takes an edge the boys know it only takes when he’s talking down to some pair of tits he’s moments away from bedding. “All for the _boss_ , huh?” He repeats his own given title like it’s a trophy he’s boasting. The twins can practically hear the suggestive grin on his face when he speaks. “You _do_ always keep them where I need em. Eli’s fifteen and he’s not so much as snuck out to stick his dick in some unfortunate girl— or guy, if I know the kid.” 

Ocelot laughs. His boots thud against the floor as they slowly make their way towards the living room. _Towards the twins._ “Not sure where I stand point-wise but I’d hope that’d get me more kudos, boss. Better he stay inside doing what he’s told than out messing around with other boys his age.” 

John growls, “Yeah…” The twins can hear his voice take a breathy turn, “Good thing, too. Glad I’ve got such an _obedient right hand_ to keep him where I want him.” 

Dave leans forward, peeking his head around the corner of the couch. “Gross….” He mutters. 

“What?” Eli pushes himself against Dave’s back and looks over him, eager to see what his brother is grimacing so hard at. He ignores the jab Dave places in his side as he finally gets a good look at his father and Ocelot. He really wishes he hadn't looked. 

John’s got his hands on Ocelot’s ass. He’s squeezing with pinching fingers curled around the curve of his cheeks like he might pull the meat right off his bones, and their faces are smashed together. They’ve not a care in the world but each other’s tongues and it’s utterly disgusting. 

“Stop staring.” Dave elbows him in the shoulder, whispering. “Come on. While they’re…” He makes a low noise of disgust, “ _Distracted_.”

Eli’s face goes red when he pulls his head back, watching Dave crawl across the floor towards Hal and quickly following. “I wasn’t _staring_ ….” He mutters defiantly and more for himself than anyone. 

When they reach Hal, the three of them are pressed against the wall, stacked like sardines in a can. They _could_ sprint up the stairs the way Dave initially planned, but that runs the risk of being heard now that John’s inside and he’s got his kitty-cat company as an extra set of ears and eyes— _as per usual around here._

Eli looks around frantically. The closest room is their father’s study, but if John’s planning on his usual routine, that may be the last place they want to be right now. 

“We could…” He flicks his head towards the study, across the dining room. 

“No.” Dave hardly even spares him a glance. Hal is still gripping his boyfriend like he has the power to purge them from this horrible situation and beginning to visibly tremble. “There’s another way. We can find another way.” 

“There isn’t!” Eli insists, “Stop being a fretting arse and move!” He grabs Dave’s wrist and power-walks, paying no mind to Dave’s repulsion and withdrawal of his arm with a scowl. He’s holding onto Hal with _both_ hands now, like he’s some big, bad protector. Eli coughs as he pulls open the door to the study, “Get a room you two.” 

“God…” Hal squeaks out. Dave just glares at Eli, pressing palms into his squeamish boyfriend’s back and ushering the three of them inside. Eli closes the door behind them. 

_Finally. Fucking finally._ “Damn it…” Sweet reprieve from John and Ocelot’s tonsil hockey and into a whole new basket of joyous fun. “Where the hell do we go from here?” Eli throws his hands up, frustrated, “We’re stuck now, _fuck_.” 

Dave scoffs and points a finger at Eli briefly before resting it back on Hal’s shoulder, “You're the one that said we should come in here in the first place, _genius_.” 

“Don’t tell me what I already know!” Eli paces in front of the door before striding over to John’s desk. The room is unfamiliar to him. Father never lets them in and when he does, it's usually while they’re groggy and half-asleep when an inebriated John’s got this idea in his head of how to toughen his boys up— he brings them in one at a time, sits on the corner of his desk or lazes back in his rolling chair, tells them about the costliness of war and mayhem and love until he passes out. Eli usually just slips out the door and back in bed, even Ocelot who he sometimes passes on the way doesn’t stop him. Everyone knows John can get a little beside himself with passion for his— quite frankly _fucked_ — interests. ‘Frankly fucked’ is a good way to describe the man himself as a whole. Nobody’s faulting him for it— even if they should. That’s just how he is. 

“Alright—“ Eli surveys the room. He stands behind the large desk at its center and dips his head to look at the space below it. “I call the desk.” 

“You're an absolute joke. I can’t believe you.” Dave sighs, idly sliding his fingers along several books that lie perfectly organized along the _very_ large bookshelf, Hal’s hand in his. “Honestly, I can’t.” 

Eli laughs out loud, “What? Can’t believe my _superior_ hiding place? Well tough shit, get your own.” 

“No, what I can’t believe is that you’d pick the _one_ place father would go first.” He side-eyes Eli over his shoulder, glancing between his brother and the unnecessarily large desk. “ _Idiot_.” 

Eli’s face is flooded with indignant defiance. He pouts his lips and shakes his head a very emphatic _no_. “Are you serious? Look how big it is!”

Dave snickers. “Sure. Lots of room to _research_.” 

Eli squints at him but relents, “That’s right.” He nods his head at the desk, satisfied. “You two _love birds_ figure out yours. Thisun’s mine.” 

“Eli…” Hal begins shyly, “Where do you think your father would go to do his… _business_. With Ocelot, I mean.”

The scraggly blond _asshole_ , as Dave would say, scans the room. “I uh… the couch?” He points to a velvety blood-red loveseat beneath a shelf of books. Cozy enough that even Eli wants just to touch it, why _wouldn’t_ John do his… disgusting business on it? 

Hal looks at him in a way that’s so audaciously pitiful, and that’s how Eli sees it. Where’s an Emmerich get off on looking at someone else like that? _He’s_ the one that should be the subject of ridicule, not Eli. “What?” Eli asks, agitated. 

Dave taps Hal’s shoulder and shakes his head as if to say _he’s not gonna get it,_ and walks over to the couch. He points at its back, which is flush up against the wall. “How many times have we heard _this_ bang against the wall Eli?” 

Just thinking about it… Eli’s stomach twists. He frowns and creases his brow, actually trying to sum up a number from the millions of nights he and Dave have had to lie awake listening to rhythmic thudding against the wall accompanied by cursed expletives and the occasional scream. “I— err… a-a few times. Maybe a couple dozen?” Talking about his father’s sexual escapades is about as close as he can get to imagining them and he really doesn’t want that. He _shouldn’t_ , at least. 

“No,” Dave sighs at his brother’s cranial density. “How many times have we heard _this_ couch hit the wall?” 

Eli throws up his hands, face flushed. “I-I don’t know!” 

“Exactly. Because we haven’t. _Ever_.” 

Hal points to the floor surrounding the large, mahogany desk, more so at its stilts. “See?” 

Eli looks down at the floor. Oh. He tilts his head and his body follows as he circles the desk’s entirety. _What a gross old man._ “Jeez.” He mutters. The floor has marks where the desk seems to have been dragged or pushed. 

Oh, of _course_ he’d fuck his little one-time flames on his own desk. He probably gives them all wartime stories while he does it, pointing to the plaques and flags and literature along the walls like some prick boasting about his past as if his numerous trophies will account for the inches he _probably_ lacks. 

Eli shakes his head, getting a _little_ too close to imagining his father’s dick size. It would be completely and totally on accident though… not in a million years would he ever want to see anything like that….

He backs away from the desk with his hands held up defeatedly. “You two can have the desk. I’ll… find another spot.” 

Dave cackles and Hal just looks up at him with a disappointed frown. 

Fat footsteps creak the floor beyond the study’s entrance. The three of them each look at it at the same time and then back to each other as if the thought had hit them in unison. They’re scrambling as John’s voice nears closer. 

“Fuck!” Eli shouts. “We’re gonna— were gonna die. He’ll kill us for sure!” He says exasperatedly. 

“He’s not. At least not _me_ ….” Dave wedges his fingers behind a large bookcase— nearly the size of the entire wall— and pulls hard with a grunt. He looks back at Hal and Eli, “Help me!”

The two of them dash to his side and on a _one, two, three_ , begin to pull. They all let out guttural grunts, more gasps than anything from Hal. They’ve got the shelf out from the wall maybe two feet. It’s not noticeable, not as noticeable as it would be if it wasn’t between an empty wall at one end and a very thick display cabinet at the other. John won’t notice the extra foot or so as long as that hefty display cabinet beside it doesn’t shrink…. 

The door flies open and Dave quickly squeezes in first, pulling Hal behind him. Eli’s the last one, sliding in with a grunt as he hastily pulls the case as close to his body as he can as to not leave it sticking out as much. 

He really wishes he hadn't eaten so many chips. “Fucking cramped. Move your leg—!” Hal’s throat chokes seemingly on itself and nothing else when Eli kicks him.

“Don’t fucking kick him, dick. We’re all in this—“ Dave clasps a hand over his own mouth, hearing John’s voice loud and clear. “ _Shit_.” He mumbles. 

The three of them are totally still and absolutely sweating as they each heave what little free air they have— the three of them sucking in what the other’s sighing out, sharing panicked little pants. John’s voice sounds breathy enough to make Eli wish he was out there, breathing freely away from his arse of a brother and his little _boyfriend_. 

The door slams shut and something thuds against the large desk. 

“Told you.” Dave whispers over Hal’s head. Eli just flips him the bird without a glance and keeps listening. 

Wood scrapes against wood as John growls just loud enough to hear, “You gonna go extra hard on my boys tomorrow?” Nobody should sound _that_ turned on while talking about their own kids, and yet…. “Make them work hard for their uncle?” 

Ocelot’s mouth seems to be wretched away from something with an audibly wet ‘pop’ in between following John’s words. “Of course, boss. But you do know it’s not for me.” The smirk on both of their faces is just as loud as their lips smacking against one another. “I do it for— ah…” Ocelot sighs, something clearly cutting him off. 

“Go ahead,” John growls, “Say it for me.” 

“For you, _boss_. It’s all for you.” He emphasizes that word— boss— like it’s his favorite of the mix. He begins a bout of breathy sighs, John’s own nearly drowning them out as he bellows guttural growls and grunts— the type an animal finds slinking through its throat before it digs into well-caught prey. “B-Boss…” 

Eli’s eyes frantically find Dave’s. The minute-older brother shakes his head and looks away. _Yeah, he’s right_. Eli turns his head back. The last thing either of them should want right now is to look each other in the eye, right? That’s a given…. Dave’s arms rest over his chest and leave Hal suspiciously vacant. The three of them each, actually, recede into themselves, Eli more red-faced and flustered than he’d like to admit. 

He guesses it should make perfect sense that hearing his father go down on his adoptive uncle would be a mood-killer. It’s not like he should get off on it, and obviously he wouldn’t! He’s just… caught off guard is all. That’s why his body feels so hot; embarrassment has a hold of him. No other reason besides that. 

“Goddamn it.” John's voice carries an even lower pitch than usual, somehow. “You’re all mine. _Mine_.” 

Ocelot chokes out a fevered ‘Mhm-hmm.’ Even the tone of _his_ voice is absolutely devoid of composure. They’re both straying far from even sounding like themselves anymore, the way a fevered inclination to fuck— Eli would guess— has them tripping over their usual colorful exchanges. 

“Say you’re mine.” John growls. Eli has to cover his face with both hands and lowly groan away the embarrassment. 

“I’m fucking yours, boss.” Ocelot says breathlessly. “ _Use me_ like I’m yours.” 

“ _Fuck_.”

There’s an especially loud collision with the desk and then panting. Hurried breathing with a baritone pitch fills the room along with Ocelot’s own moans— squeakier than Eli would’ve imagined, though… 

Not that he’s ever imagined it! But he has… thought of it on accident, for sure. A passing image or conjured up sound that struck him a million miles per second which he couldn’t even help but let take him— pure figment of his mind and yet the type that shook him to his core as soon as he had his wits back about him to process it. But he always pushed it away with a grimace, and that’s what really matters. 

Right? 

Ocelot’s voice rises uncharacteristically in octaves, “John— _fuck_!” 

“Thats—“ John grunts hard, audibly slamming something against his desk, “That’s _boss_ to you.” 

“Boss!” Ocelot moans, “Just fuck— fuck me up, boss.” 

God, not even a ‘ _fuck me_ ’ but a ‘ _fuck me up’._ The two are loud and unabashedly going at it, unhindered by concepts and common rules like inside voices and the usual volumes this house accommodates. 

But then again, they didn’t count on having a triplet of peeping toms in their midst, did they? 

Eli’s whole body feels hot suddenly. ‘Suddenly’ as if he hadn’t been a fazed little mess the second he’d laid eyes on his father groping Ocelot like a— _a woman._ He’s just the smooth-talker in the family, Eli knows that. It can’t be helped that he’d seduce Ocelot under such unbecoming circumstances. They’re both just men… nothing to get worked up over. 

_And yet…._

A swelling heat— different from boastful pride or hot hatred— twists in Eli’s gut, tingling his stomach and swirling around his bellybutton before spreading in searing pangs throughout his groin. His _dick_. 

_No, no, no._ This can’t be happening, not right now, of all fucking times! 

Eli starts panting. He doesn’t sound too different from Ocelot, actually. Unusually high-pitched for his given tone of voice and readily escalating into breathlessness. He can’t tell if it’s horror from the realization of what his body’s doing to him or the direct effect of it. Either way, Dave and Hal _both_ notice. 

“Eli,” Dave chides, “You fucking—“ 

“Shut up!” Eli’s head whips towards his brother. “Just— Just shut the fuck up!” 

Hal has the well-meant urge to comfort Eli thinking maybe that would help him. “It’s okay, really.” His hand touches Eli’s shoulder and you’d think his flesh was traded off for fire the way Eli jumps. The blond hit the shelf, subsequently crotch-first, and had to hold back a scream of frustration. 

Eli fists the fabric of his shirt with one hand and pulls the hem down over his crotch. “F-Fuck you guys.” He says, both to Dave and Hal and his Father. _Stupid old man can’t keep it in his pants and look at what’s happened._ Eli would laugh at the unbelievable hilarity of it all if his dick wasn’t spotting the inside of his underwear right about now. 

Dave shakes his head, ready to go off on his brother if it weren’t for their proximity and a certain father of _all things fucked_ spreading open his apparent lover. “Would you stop being fucking disgusting for five seconds? God, I can’t _believe_ you.” 

Hal shushes him but he continues, undeterred. “You’re a creep, you know that?” He shoots a disgusted look at Eli, fraught with disappointment. “You can’t keep it in your pants any more than Father can!” 

“Dave, just leave it alone.” Hal insists. 

“No!” He looks Eli head to crotch and eyes the hands pulling at his shirt. “What, you like the sound of your _daddy_ fucking our uncle?” His query was rhetorical, less of a question and more of a comment, but what it does to Eli is beyond anything he could’ve imagined. 

Dave watches Eli’s hips jerk into his fist at the word. He frowns, put off but ultimately confused by Eli’s display. “You’re so… why are you like this? _God_.” He can’t help but watch his brother writhe as he visibly resists the urge to get off on his own, _right_ in front of his twin— and to the sound of his father fucking his _uncle_ , no less. 

They’re all a merry bunch of fucked up individuals, that’s for sure. 

Eli chokes around a moan, grinding his hips against the shelf’s backboard at the exact moment that John’s cussing, loudly fucking into Ocelot. Wet squelches fill the room along with a distinct slapping noise, the type that can’t be mistaken for anything other than sex. Beneath it all is Eli, moaning into his hand and hating himself immensely for it all. 

“I c-can’t help it, _damn you_.” Eli croaks out. He manages to still himself and pull his hips back, not exactly the spitting image of self-restraint when his lower body cants outward, much to his and Dave’s horror. Hal himself seems… quiet about it all. 

Dave nudges his boyfriend’s shoulder, speaking into his ear. “Don’t mind him, he’s just being stupid.” He forces a laugh, “It’s nothing new.” 

Hal doesn’t so much as look at him. Instead, the brunette looks down as if to purposefully hide his face. Dave’s twists in worry. “Hey—“ He places a gentle palm on Hal’s shoulder and shakes him enough to rattle the kid to the point of vocality. 

Hal whines when Dave’s hand grips his shoulder firmly. “I-I don’t think…” 

“What?” Dave raises a brow. 

Hal opens his mouth to say something but what’s the use? He could hardly hear Dave as it is over John and Ocelot fucking against the desk and Eli’s own restrained little moans of embarrassment and desperation. Altogether— this is a properly _fucked_ situation in and of itself. He can’t say he wanted this, but he can’t deny that it’s… a very _interesting_ turn of events. It pains him to say he’s not put off by it. 

Hal shakes his head. “I don’t think… your brother is in the w-wrong here.” 

Dave doesn’t even formulate a reply inside his head before Hal’s looking up at him with glossy eyes the size of dinner plates and flushed cheeks— red enough that even in the shadow of the bookshelf, Dave can see. 

“But— why?” Dave’s expression goes through the absolute _wringer_. Confusion and then disgust but gradually lacking in the latter, more so understanding after a few seconds. “Don’t tell me you’re gonna _pull an Eli_.” 

“I can— can fucking hear you, numbnuts.” 

“Good for you!” Dave spits back. His face softens though when he turns back down to Hal. He tilts his head for an answer. 

Hal shakes his and it looks like there’s tears welling up in his eyes. The dam finally breaks when Dave lets a little _‘what’s wrong’_ slip through and suddenly, he’s grasping at the older twin and croaking out pleas, desperate as he can be. “He’s not wrong. I-I’m feeling it too. Could you just— _try_?” Dave seems confused as to what Hal’s asking so the Emmerich withdraws his hands from Dave’s chest.

Instead, he pulls Dave’s hand by a single finger to his groin, halfway rutting into it. The whines are escaping him before he could think to even ask if Dave is comfortable with this.

The older twin can’t believe it. Is he _really_ the only sane one here? Or is it… him. Eli’s lost his mind for sure, that’s a given and he knows it, but Hal too? 

Sure, it’s always been a little daunting to listen to his father fuck random women— even a few men, he’s sure, though they _sounded_ like women— in the next room over for the last fifteen years and not pitch a tent at least on the woman’s account. When the urge to rub one out at the sound of a broad taking his father’s cock dawned on him, he always shrugged it off as hormones. He’s not as dense as his airheaded brother and he can differentiate a fantasy from the actual thing. He always told himself to just think of it as live porn— pay attention to the hole getting fucked, not the one fucking it. Even if he has to touch himself trying to imagine the tiny hole… and how a thick cock stretches it apart like nothing, but not his father’s! He wouldn’t— won’t allow himself to think like that. He shouldn’t…

But the way Hal’s palming himself with Dave’s hand has his teenage head in a frenzy. And to the rhythm of his father’s grunts, no less. Only an insane person would get off to their own parent! But if it’s for Hal… well, that’s just for the good of his boyfriend, isn’t it? He can hardly be faulted for the way he’s affected when he’s touched or even _touching_. 

Hal sure does know how to use Dave’s hand. He’s sighing and every breath that comes out of him is tinged with a high-pitched whimper, fighting so valiantly to escape despite Hal’s reluctance. 

Before he knows it, Hal’s pulled his hand down his pants. It’s almost purely instinctual when Dave jerks the half-hard length of his dick dryly and Hal’s immediately a whimpering mess. 

Eli leans his head forward and looks at the two of them in awe. “Y-You arseholes…” The two completely ignore him and press against one another feverishly— as close as they can get within the limited space— and Eli makes a strained noise of protest in spite of it. “And you called _me_ fucked.” 

“Shut up!” Dave spits, his hand dryly jerking Hal inside of his pants. “I’m a little busy here.” 

Eli’s eyes fall to his brother’s hand. He can’t even see what he’s doing inside Hal’s bottoms and yet he wants it. He wants it so fucking bad like he’s never wanted anything more. He lets out a low noise of frustration. “Gah…” _It wouldn’t be good to ask, would it?_ Hell— they’ve come this far, why not? “You have two hands, you know.” He flimsily comments, unsure of himself. 

Dave looks at him confused for a moment, a mere second until Hal’s grabbing the collar of his shirt and bucking into his hand. “Dave— _ah, fuck.”_

Composure is beyond retention. They’re in _deep_ , and Dave shares what he’s sure is Eli’s own thought process in stepping down to that nihilistic outlook on this whole scenario. _Getting his own twin off_ … it’s not much of a step down from fucking his boyfriend to the sound of his father’s hips slapping against his uncle’s ass. He may as well go balls to the wall, all in. 

Still, these are, needless to say, foreign waters. Dave’s free hand reaches around Hal and comes close to touching Eli’s visible bulge, but he pauses for a moment, looking up at his twin’s reddened face before swallowing and driving his hand forward. 

Eli’s head spins. He’s holding back a scream with one hand over his mouth and seeing white spots breaking his vision. 

Dave gropes him hard. Hard enough with fingers curling towards the underside of his boner, chafing along his inner thighs as Eli reflexively presses his knees together to trap the sensation— _terrified_ that his brother might take it back. His fingers follow the outline of Eli’s dick and press roughly into the fabric that separates them. Eli bites his fist and chokes back pained moans. 

He sounds _exactly_ like Ocelot right now, and Dave? With his looks… he may as well be John. The thought of that as being what this is—depraved projection by needy brothers with inferiority complexes— drives Eli up the wall. 

He desperately ruts into Dave’s hand with every squeeze. When that’s no longer enough, he doesn’t bother to push his twin’s hand away as he’s fishing himself out of his boxers. Dave gives him _the look_ that brothers always share when they’re thoroughly done with the other. “That quick? Are you sure it’s a good idea—“ 

“J-Just shut up and touch me already.” Eli’s flushed face somehow deepens a shade and Dave shrugs. Slick fluid leaks from the tip of Eli’s cock when Dave grabs it, sliding his thumb over the slit and pulling chafingly. He’s certainly not the best at getting Eli off but that’s a good thing, right?

Nonetheless, it’s imperfect but _plenty_ for Eli. He tilts his head back against the wall, mouth agape, and just listens. His father’s voice chanting curses at and because of Ocelot, saying things Eli would never dare say to Ocelot himself. He tries to imagine it since he can’t see it himself, even as tantalizingly close as it is… John’s cock, how the head presses against his uncle’s puckered entrance, gritted teeth and clenched jaws, nails scraping and clawing and that hot, sticky wetness— _god_ , Eli can practically _feel_ it in his ass. His father’s dick spreading him open and forcing Eli to take every inch of him whether he physically can or not. 

Eli dares to open his eyes in the midst of his fantasy— spurred on by the room’s intoxicating sounds— and he sees Dave’s face, one lip snagged between his teeth in concentration as he focuses intently on jerking his brother off. _Fuck_ , Eli licks his lips. Dave looks _exactly_ like John right now, or at least the way Eli imagines him looking. Sex-face and all. 

John himself yells out curses, no doubt grabbing Ocelot’s hips as he bends him over the desk and fucks his partner within an inch of his life. It’s always been all or nothing with Father… Eli’s sure that’s truer now more than ever. The sounds of it all have Eli’s stomach bursting and his dick leaking, into Dave’s hand, no less. He weighs the pros and cons before saying fuck it and blurting it out.

“Fuck— fuck me, _father_.” Even just hearing himself whine it, he almost loses it and shoots a load into Dave’s hand. 

It seems like he’s been dying to say that for a very long time. 

He’s glad Hal’s busy burying his face in Dave’s chest to muffle his own sounds, or he’d be on another plane of existence with white-hot embarrassment. 

Dave’s eyes widen. “W-What? What did you say?” His ministrations come to a startling halt. Eli whines. 

Eli’s so _fucking over_ explaining himself to Dave. His own brother’s watching him come undone and he can’t even, at the very least, just let it go, let them both play into it and make the best of a bad(?) situation. 

“K-Keep going, please— Just l-let me— let me have this.” He pants, eyes pleading, and Dave seems to get the message although it’s clear he really wishes he didn’t. 

Of all the people he could’ve resembled, of course he’d take a likeness to his father. Just to have it twisted around on him in precarious situations like this. Fine. He sighs. 

Dave puts a new determination in his movements and his lip’s back in between his teeth, bitten to the point of drawing blood. Eli’s eyes are screwed shut as he once again resumes listening and imagining. 

_It’s not Dave, it’s father._ His _father_ is jerking his cock— his blond little son, bearing so much resemblance to the broads he brings home and even uncle Kaz, who Eli _knows_ he’s taken to bed before. Hell— Eli almost has to laugh in the midst of his ecstasy at the thought of it. What if Father’s been doing a little projecting of his own? Wouldn’t that be something…. _Fuck. Fuuuck._ Eli’s hips cant upwards into Dave’s palm to fuck himself on whatever he can. “Father I— _fuck, p-please.”_

Dave looks at him, almost with sympathy and thinks about what this actually means to his poor brother. Even still… the way his face is twisted in pleasure, and at his _twin’s_ hand… he’ll give in to it. If not entirely because he wants it too and wants it bad, then because Eli clearly needs it.

“You’re doing— uhh—“ It takes him a moment to find the right words. “You’re doing so good for me, _son_.” 

Eli’s bodily reaction is instantaneous. His jaw goes slack in a perfect ‘o’ until a string of moans and ‘Father’ begin to escape him louder than needed. “Y-Yes, father.” His brow knits in question, “I’m doing g— _oh, fuck_ — d-doing good?” 

Dave picks up the pace. His hand is thoroughly coated in slick precum and the skin-on-skin bears no resistance. It’s just a matter of feeding Eli’s fantasy long enough to get him there. He licks his lip— torn from being chewed— and purposefully lowers his voice in the best impression of John that he can muster, “That’s a good boy. Are you gonna cum for me, baby boy?” 

It sounds like something he’d say to Hal. It _should_ be something he’s saying to Hal, but circumstance demands it. It’s not like he finds his brother attractive… he’s just letting himself get caught up in it is all. Or maybe— _damn it,_ he doesn’t know. All he knows is that he can feel Eli’s cock twitching every time he calls him _his_ boy and he’s loving it far more than he should. 

“Yeah— _ah,_ yes, _daddy_.” Eli whines, beside himself with pleasure. “Shit, I—m-make me cum, daddy, please. I n-need it. _Fuck_ — I need it.” 

Ask and ye shall stubbornly receive. Dave jerks him as skillfully as he can manage. Eli looks milliseconds away from an orgasm when Hal drives his hips against Dave’s and makes an effort to pull both of his hands back to his body and his only. “What about m-me? I want to— _you know._ ” Always the prude, Hal, but obviously not prudish enough to be above _incest_. 

Maybe it’s the whines of his twin spurring him on, or maybe it’s just how deep he’s gotten into his John persona, but he can’t help but make Hal and Eli beg for it. “What do you want? Tell me.” He growls. Eli’s leaking cock twitches in his hand at the low grumble of Dave’s voice— a near perfect mimic of John. And Hal writhes too, not so much for Eli’s reasoning but because he’s desperate to get off either way. 

Hal seems to be beyond a response but Eli is a stuttering mess fixing for a release. Dave pulls at them both, lazily at first in a slower show of lewd force, and then quicker. Much, _much_ quicker. 

Eli’s grabbing at his brother’s hand the same way Hal is clinging to him. If Eli could reach, he’d probably want to get as close to his daddy-lookalike as possible, but, considering space, that’s impossible. He and Hal still reach though… their hands eventually bump against each other and grip the same bundles of fabric along Dave’s shirt sleeve, both a whining mess for their favorite brother’s hands and for Eli— his _voice_. 

“Look at my two pretty boys,” Dave coos, more for Eli than Hal. “Both of you are fucking— _ah, shit_.” His voice fails him as much as Eli’s had the second Dave had started touching him, except it’s reversed now. 

Top? Bottom? Giver? Receiver? Who gives a shit when you’ve got three pairs of hands all grasping at whatever they _possibly_ can to chase a means to an end. One particular pair settles on _Dave’s_ obvious boner. He’s hardly given time to register the sensations and to fall out of his daddy dearest persona when greedy hands are pulling down his pants enough to reciprocate the giving manner of his own jerking motions. 

Dave feels like he’s been hit with a semi when he looks down to see his brother and Hal both with hands on him and his dick. He’s probably soiled his underwear as bad as Eli has, so there’s not a care in his mind paid to not unloading on himself, even if it is uncomfortable for a while. That’s what showers are for. 

Oh, the prospect of taking this threeway to the shower… Dave’s shaking himself sane before his thoughts run _too_ rampant. 

The three of them— a panting mess of hands and mouths— increase the speed of their individual ministrations. Dave’s got his hands down _both_ of his boy’s pants and they’ve got their hands on him too, repaying the favor. 

His brother’s dumb face he usually can’t stand to look at for more time than needed is so _beautifully_ flushed and slack. And Hal… he’s in another world, so concentrated on working his boyfriend over the edge yet so absent. Dave almost cums into their hands when he sees Eli do the _unthinkable_ and grab Hal’s soft jaw with his free hand, _kissing_ his twin’s boyfriend as if he’s his. Eli’s not an expert in the slightest and far, _far_ from it but he’s certainly keen on using his tongue, much to Hal’s surprise. 

The sight of it all has Dave holding back a groan as he finds his orgasm. Elongated spurts of cum land mostly on Hal and Eli’s hands although a few string off, falling to the floor. 

Good thing nobody ever cleans behind the bookcases. _Probably not,_ anyway. 

When Hal’s hips begin to speed up in frantic bursts, thrusting into Dave’s hand and even turning back to Eli, utterly dazed and whining into the twin’s mouth, Dave jerks him faster. He’s sighing and coming down from his own high and he’s eager to get this over with, considering post-nut clarity is dawning on him and he’d rather at least have his hands off of his brother’s dick before he’s plunged into the guilt he knows is coming. 

“D-Dave, _ah-hah_ —“ Hal’s voice cracks on a whine as he covers his own mouth as to not have them discovered, Dave’s relentless pace finally bringing him over the edge. Dave’s grip on him mills him dry, lazily jerking even through the aftershocks of his orgasm. 

And all that’s left is Eli. Of _course_ he’d finish last. Always the dud and yet more resilient than Dave would’ve thought given his obvious lack of experience. Dave knows _even he_ came faster his first time, but maybe Eli’s specific fantasy is what’s keeping him hinged. 

So he just needs a little push? That’s doable. 

But Dave _is_ his father’s son, and ‘little’ in regards to efforts are never commonplace within this household of theirs. Especially not between him and Eli. 

Dave watches Eli hastily toy with his own nipples beneath his shirt, desperate for more sensation. He looks visibly frustrated as he pleads with Dave. “C-Could you— damn it. You know.” Stubborn as ever and ruined on his first orgasm from big brother. He’s just as much John’s son as Dave is. _Perverse in the best ways._

Dave thinks it finally appropriate to pull his hand back from Hal’s pants and his quickly flaccid dick, smeared in cum inside of his boxers, and gently pushes his boyfriend aside with a trusting glance. Hal understands, it seems, and presses his back against the wall, giving Dave and Eli as much room to play as possible. 

Dave reaches both arms around Hal and pulls his twin close. He sighs hot air onto his lips and growls, “I bet you like the feeling of your _daddy’s_ hands wrapped around your cock?” Eli’s breath is heated and labored on his lips, close enough to almost taste, and Dave isn’t one to resist temptation… He places a clumsy peck on Eli’s lips that _obviously_ doesn’t feel right for either of them, so he relents to licking a hot streak up the side of his jaw. Eli shudders. “Does that feel good, boy? Does _daddy_ make you feel good?” 

Like a trained animal, he responds on command, his body answering more than the stuttering string of near-incoherency he offers up. “Y-Yea, It— It feels good, daddy.” 

Eli almost doesn’t have to listen to John and Ocelot going at it with the way Dave’s speaking to him, _touching_ him. It’s just as good as how he imagines the real thing to be. 

It’s amazing to Dave how easy it is to reduce his already dull brother to a mess of fucked up; unintelligible syllables more than anything. “Fu-uuck, I— _daddy, oh_ — I’m—“ Eli stutters, utterly uncomposed. 

Dave picks up the pace and watches Eli brace himself— his legs, knees bent— against the shelf’s back, spreading himself open as wide as he can manage and bucking his hips into Dave’s pulling grip. 

Dave somehow sees the error in his actions _after_ it’s too late, but the horror of it hits him like a ton of bricks. Eli though, he’s fine, _better_ than fine, cumming with a deafening cry that couldn’t have been held back if Dave had clasped a hand over his mouth the way Hal was courteous enough to do. It goes without saying that John and Ocelot’s little show comes to an abrupt halt. What scares Dave the most— putting aside his brother’s cry of pure bliss filling the room louder than _anything_ — is the fact that the first thing he hears is a low, sardonic laugh. The next thing that causes him to properly piss the floor is Eli’s legs pushing the bookshelf’s back reflexively… hard enough that it begins to wobble. Dave’s not even registering this horrendous string of events as it unfolds but by the time he does manage to feel a heap of hot cum dribbling out of his full palm, he’s falling. 

Actually, the _three_ of them are falling. Along with the bookshelf, and subsequently their _only_ cover between John and Ocelot and their general impending doom. 

By the time they’re on the floor surrounded by books— Dave leaning against the fallen shelf— the three of them are looking around, dazed. Eli’s thighs are still trembling from what Dave assumes was probably the most indulgent orgasm he’s allowed himself to have in… forever? 

“Well, would you look at that.” The wrecked boys scramble to cover themselves as they look up to an imperious duo. John sneers as ocelot’s lips curl in a devious smirk. “Your boys aren’t as well-behaved as I thought, boss.” Ocelot says. There isn’t an _ounce_ of displeasure on his face, almost like he _likes_ this. He’s propped up on the wide desk with his legs around John’s waist, his cock visibly erect on his stomach, leaking precum, and John’s pressing against the cusp of his entrance. They’re mid-fuck, clearly, and rudely interrupted. 

John sighs through his nose a deep growl and eyes Hal with a stern, agitated look. The poor kid recedes into himself more than he ever has and frantically looks between Dave and Eli. John rubs absentminded circles into Ocelot’s pale thighs that are clenched around his waist and grunts. “Who’s he?” He sounds bored, as if the little friends of his boys are none of his legitimate concern. 

“T-That’s uh— it’s-“ 

“I asked you a question, I expect an answer.” John commands. Ocelot’s smirk bears even _more_ teeth, if that’s possible, lazily stroking John’s thick arms from the wrist up. 

If embarrassment and mostly fear didn’t have him by the balls, Eli would almost dare to look his naked father up and down. But right now, he thinks it’s best he looks away and covers himself to avoid watching this get any worse. 

Dave sighs in an attempt to soothe his trembling voice. “T-That’s Hal.” 

“ _Ohh. The Emmerich boy._ ” John chuckles sarcastically. “Good to know. Well, I’m glad you freaks decided to show up and kill the mood. I didn’t even get to finish.” He shakes his head in agitation and boredom, tired already just by having to stare at his kids’ faces. 

Ocelot looks Eli up and down, licking his lips, his legs tightening their curl around John’s waist. “Eli, you look real worked up there, kid.” Ocelot turns to John with a chuckle, “Your boy’s are grade-A pervs, boss. Wonder where they get that from.” He mutters. 

“Alright—“ John grunts. “Wait in the hall. I’ll deal with you disobedient shitheads when I’m _finished_.” 

The twins blink at John and then each other. Neither of them move, unsure of what to do. 

John sighs. He clears his throat, “Get in the fucking hall! Before I have to tell you again.” He watches with a satisfied look on his face as the twins, Hal too, shove themselves _properly_ back into their pants and do the walk of shame back to the door. 

Eli bumps shoulders with Dave, who’s avoiding touching Hal as much as possible. “This is your fault, arse.” He mutters bitterly. 

“Fuck you.” Dave replies. He holds the door open silently for his fellow perpetrators with bowed heads and hears his father’s voice ring low and dangerous as he closes the door behind him. 

“I hope you enjoyed the show, boys. It’ll be the last bit of fun you’ll ever have.” 

**Author's Note:**

> I lied. I give a shit about misspellings. Point them out if you see them and I’ll get them fixed as quickly as I can.


End file.
